I Miss You
by GataChica
Summary: Ducky/Abby relationship, Abby's POV.


Title: I Miss You

Author: GataChica

Rating: T

Spoilers: minor for The Mummy's Curse, Faking It

Summary: Ducky/Abby, a simple little angsty story.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

As of today, the new M.E. has been at NCIS for two weeks.

She's still settling in – she's gradually making the morgue hers but right now it still has traces of Ducky in it. That's why every evening, after Dr. Sarandi has gone home, I come here and wait through all the hours of darkness until it is time for me to head back up to my lab.

Every morning is the same. I feel the weight of dull depression steadily growing, and I come just a tiny bit closer to believing that Ducky really isn't coming back. And I know that it is because of me.

You know how people say, "I don't want to sleep with you because it might ruin our friendship"? I never really believed in that, but Ducky did, and because of that and some other hurdles it took a lot of patience and major seductive efforts to get him into my bed.

Don't misunderstand me – it wasn't just sex I wanted, although I did want that very badly. I wanted to tell him I loved him; I hoped he felt the same way. As time went on I could see that he did love me, he was just fearful of the possible consequences if we became lovers.

But when we finally did, I know he liked it. I _know_ he did. He made that very clear. Afterwards I laid my head on his shoulder and curled up against him to sleep, and he held me firmly against him.

I woke with a vague sense of loss. Then I realized my head was on the pillow and the bed had lost its warmth. Yes, I freaked out. I couldn't stop crying – to have wanted him so long and to finally get him, only to have the happiness torn away from me, was way too much for me to bear.

I tried calling him; I must have called 20 times and left almost that number of messages. I was frantic, and when I went to work the next day I was so distraught that I tried to enter the building with my credit card instead of my badge.

The only good thing was that I expected to see him at NCIS, which would give me a chance to find out why he left my apartment and then, whatever it was, to fix it so he would come back.

I didn't get that chance after all. He had already given his resignation to the Director, claiming a family emergency back in Scotland. I found out that he had left on the first available flight, which departed just about the time I was waking up without him.

I knew everyone could tell I was extremely upset and they thought it was because of my long friendship with Ducky. But Gibbs knew better – how, I don't know, probably just because he's Gibbs. In any case he was very gentle with me, which somehow made me even more upset. Eventually I was crying all the sadness out on his shoulder and he held me up because I could barely stand. He gave me the day off, but said to call him if I needed to talk.

It's a good thing they didn't catch a case that day, because I did call him, 7 times, and they were not brief calls. I'm sure after hearing his replies to me they all knew about it but I didn't care. I had nothing to be ashamed of, except the fact that Ducky left and it was because of me and I didn't know why.

Maybe I did care.

Now I'm sitting in _his_ chair with just one lamp on and I haven't adjusted the seat even though I'm taller than him and it makes my knees come up too high. I'm so glad Dr. Harandi uses a different chair. When she moved in she ordered a new desk and chair, but Ducky's still sits in the corner where he once did his paperwork.

I close my eyes and think of some of the very best times that we had in the morgue. It is usually considered a depressing place, but we had our private jokes, like when I yelled "Fore!" at him and he was holding a niblick. I thought the word sounded like a sex act and he admitted that he had thought the same before he learned it was actually a nine iron.

Then there was the time I helped him solve the mystery of the missing bullet, and he kissed my forehead, and I didn't wash it for days. Seriously, I didn't.

After some time I realize tears are running down my cheeks again, and I lay my head on the desk with a little whimper. "Ducky," I say in a pained voice, "if you only knew…"

The sound of the elevator cuts into my misery. The security guard comes down at least once each night to make sure I'm okay – well, as okay as I can be.

But the footsteps sound different from the way they usually sound. And the lights haven't been turned on, even though I know the person is in the room. I hope against hope that it's not Dr. Harandi, because she would ask questions that I can't bear to answer right now.

I peer into the darkness. "Who's there?"

The footsteps move closer and a voice says "Abby? What are you doing down here?"

I'm frozen in the chair. I can't move, I can't think, I can't speak. And before I regain my senses he touches my arm tenderly and moves into the lamplight, where I can see without any doubt that it really is Ducky.

"I miss you!" I'm finally able to croak the words. I clear my throat. "Why did you go?" I reach for him and he allows me to embrace him tightly. He even hugs me back.

"Abby, I – it's hard to say –" He stumbles over the words, and I think to myself how rarely I have known him to have difficulty speaking. He normally talks fluently and thoroughly. But now he can't seem to put the sounds together, so I wait patiently even though my heart wants to cry out.

He kisses my hair and I stand up to reach his lips. After a moment he kisses back and this wonderful state continues for several minutes. When our lips part he has apparently regained his speech.

"My dear Abigail, when I woke up in your bed I felt I had done something terribly, horribly wrong. I know you tried to seduce me but in the end I was the one that gave in, thereby failing in my duty to protect you from yourself."

"Ducky, why –" He places his hand over my mouth and continues.

"You deserve someone who can offer you much more than I can, my dear. I'm old and worn-out –"

"Not where it counts!" That produces a little smile, but it quickly fades away.

"I'm not expecting to die soon but there is no way to tell. And you are young and full of life; you need someone who can live that life with you instead of holding you back."

I start to cry out vehemently that what he says is not true, but instead I take two deep breaths. Calmly, I say, "Ducky, I don't think you can possibly know what I deserve or what I need. If you don't want me, say so. But if you _do_ want me, give me a chance to decide what _I _want."

He looks into my eyes as if searching for something to indicate that he's right. Finally he sighs. "You're right, my dear, as usual." After pausing for a deep breath, he adds, "I would be lying if I said I don't want you. I've wanted you for years, but I never thought it proper to ask you for anything."

I pull him close again and bury my head in his neck. "I love you, Ducky. Don't you know that?" My voice sounds muffled to my ears, but I guess he can hear it.

"Yes, I do know that," he replies softly. "And I love you. Will you forgive me for leaving?"

"I'm so glad to have you back, Ducky, I could forgive you most anything!"

After a few moments, he switches off the lamp and takes my hand. He leads me in the darkness to the elevator and we go up to my lab.

I do have a futon, after all!


End file.
